Schizo
by slightlyanonymous
Summary: Draco Malfoy is returning to Hogwarts for a remedial eighth year. It would be bearable if the hateful voice inside his head would ever shut up.
1. Return to Hogwarts

Draco's body swayed with the motions of the carriage. His thoughts were overrun with fear as he thought about the year to come. He looked up to the castle he had called his home for seven years, and remembered the events that happened the last time he was here. The Dark Lord had fallen after so many years of believing he would be the victorious one once again. He really believed he could beat The Boy Who Lived after a second time. What a stupid arsehole.

Draco knew it wasn't going to work. Harry Potter wasn't going to let it happen. Just like the first time, Potter didn't die. The Dark Lord only killed the last part of him that was inside Potter with that second Killing curse. Potter must be immune to the Unforgivable curses or something. He could never be Imperiused during fourth year in that crack-pot Moody's class and he survived both times he was on the business end of a killing curse. Potter had come to death so many times.

Draco would never admit it out loud, but he's envious of Harry Potter's will to live. After staring death in the face so many times and still triumphant, Draco was sure one would be down trodden at least a bit. But Potter looked almost as cheerful as he was in first year, before he knew what was to become of him. Draco watched the boy in the carriage before him, laughing and joking with the two youngest Weasley's and Granger. Potter had his arm wrapped around the female Weasley and had kissed her temple just a moment before. He looked happy.

_Well, he bloody well should_, said a voice in the back of Draco's head. _He's the Savior of the Wizarding World. And what are you? A pathetic, loathsome, weak little boy._

Draco rubbed his face with his palms. It's funny how the voice in his mind deeply resembled his father's. It couldn't be, though, even if it was over a Legilimency link. Draco had found both of his parents dead in his father's study when Draco got back from a trial deciding his fate. His father killed his mother then poisoned himself to avoid going to Azkaban again. Draco's eyes pricked at the memory. His mother lying on the floor pointing to the door as if she was trying to run away while his father was slumped over his desk, a vile in his hand.

Draco shook his head as if he was trying to shake away the memory of his parents. He looked at the rest of the empty seats of the carriage. Alone, as always.

_No one loves you. _The voice reared its ugly head again.

"Shut up." Draco muttered. At least when he was alone, he didn't have to act like he wasn't losing his mind. Since the Dark Lord had pinned him with the responsibility of Dumbledore's death, his sanity started to slowly slip from his grasp. His friends noticed around the beginning of seventh year and let him be. Draco didn't think anything of it at the time, but now that he was alone in his starting of his now mandatory eighth year, he wished he did have some sort of connection to the peaceful times before.

A loud laugh brought Draco out of his head, just to look at the carriage before his. Bright green eyes met his, and the smile that came with them vanished, replaced by something Draco couldn't figure out. He quickly looked away, but the eyes made an imprint on him that he couldn't shake off.

_It's pity, Draco. You should be used to it by now._ Draco ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. He wished the voice in his mind would just shut the fuck up.

The carriage came to a stop. Draco stood up and carefully walked down the stairs to the earthy ground. Walking towards the castle, he made extra care not to look at the now visible thestral drawing the carriage. The magical creature frightened him even more than hippogriffs.

"Shut up, Ron," a voice growled. "You'd look like that, too, if you had been through the same things he went through."

Draco paused for a moment, looking towards the voice. Three were purposefully busying themselves so they didn't look at him. Potter stared at him, green eyes wide, and nodded. A shiver went through Draco, and as he pulled his robes tighter to his body, he nodded in response. Potter smiled and turned to his friends.

Stepping through the castle doors, he was enveloped in warmth and old memories. He kept the infamous Malfoy mask on his face, but mentally smirked at the times he had with his friends.

_You have no friends anymore. Besides, they were never your friends. They used you to gain power, _the voice in his head sneered. Draco sighed and walked into the Great Hall. Ignoring the stares of those already seated, he picked the very last seat at the Slytherin table. He heard his name whispered many times, ignored it and stared at the empty plate in front of him.

He saw his reflection. His hair was messy and pointing up in several directions. The corners of his mouth were turned down in a permanent frown. But, the most terrifying feature was his eyes. There were dark purple marks under his eyes; a side-effect of not sleeping. His eyes themselves were a dark grey color. They were the darkest he'd ever seen them. He vaguely remembered staring into an Inferi's eyes and the resemblance shook him.

He grabbed his napkin and threw it over the plate, blocking out the Inferi's stare. He realized someone was speaking and looked up to the Head Table to see Professor McGonagall—now Headmistress, Draco supposed—standing at the podium. Draco tuned out what ever she said. Until he heard Harry Potter's name.

"...no pestering whatsoever. He is a student here and should be treated as such. If anyone is found bothering him for autographs, stories, interviews, dates—anything—I will personally administer your detention.

"Also, this can be applied to any victims of the war, whoever they may be." Draco felt eyes on him, but ignored them.

"And with that, I hope to have a great new year. Enjoy your feast." McGonagall waved her hands and food appeared on the table in front of him. Moving the napkin off the plate and taking great care not to look at his reflection, he took a scoop of mashed potatoes and plopped it in the middle of his plate. He picked up the fork and stabbed the mound.

He rarely was hungry these days. He hardly ever ate, and when he did, it was usually just a biscuit or a piece of cheese. The house elves at the Manor didn't know what to do with themselves. Draco sighed and looked up.

Many heads turned away from him. Except one. One with an unruly mop of hair and green eyes looking through round glasses. He stared into the green eyes, trying to find the reason why they hadn't moved as soon as he looked up. He saw no malice or pity.

All he saw was curiosity and something else he couldn't place. Draco was stuck in those eyes. He didn't look away and neither did the green orbs.

Something flashed in front of the eyes and frightened Draco. He refocused and saw that someone had waved a hand in front of the face. Draco realized the eyes he was staring into were Harry Potter's eyes. It was the girl Weasley's hand that broke the trance. Potter was now talking to her, but his eyes slipped back to Draco for a second before going back to her.

Draco sighed at looked back down at the mound of potatoes on his plate. The mystery emotion confused him.

_Why would Potter, of all people, look at you with anything but pity and hatred? You're a disgusting, loathsome little cockroach that should have been stepped on years ago. You might as well do everyone a favor and jump off the Astronomy Tower, but you won't. You're too much of a coward to kill anything, much less yourself, which is severely overdue._

The voice in his head was practically screaming. Draco squeezed his eyes shut and grasped the fork tightly. Breathing through his nose, he opened his eyes. The fork was bent and mangled in his hand. He quickly dropped it and ran a hand through his messy hair. A loud throat clearing sound was made, making Draco look up to the head Table once more.

McGonagall was standing once again. Draco hadn't noticed that the platters before him had changed foods to desserts.

"Would the following students please meet me in my office immediately after dismissal: Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Draco Malfoy,"—eyes went to him—"Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley. The rest of you may make your ways to your respective dormitories. Thank you and have a good night." She nodded and watched as people exited. A few of the Slytherins even made sure to shove him while going to the doors, once almost knocking him down. He turned away from the crowd and saw the backs of the Gryfindors a few feet in front of him.

Wrapping his arms tight around him, he walked with slumped shoulders to the Headmistress' office.

**Disclaimer: This is all J.K. Rowling's doing. I'm only borrowing her characters and such to satisfy my own and everyone else's fix for Drarry sexy fun times. It's all her fault.**


	2. Breakdown

Draco was the last to enter McGonagall's office. The only person he looked at was the Headmistress and even that lasted only a few seconds before he stood in a corner and stared at the carpet.

_Filthy blood traitors, the lot of them. And that Mudblood. They should never be allowed to live. _The voice in his head spewed its nonsense and he bit his lip to keep himself from yelling 'shut up'.

"Right, now that you all are here, I can inform you of the housing arrangements. All of you played specific parts in the war. Some people might be overly appreciative, while others wish to cause you harm. To help keep you safe, we have created new living quarters for you. They are in the West Wing and only you five will be allowed there. You will have your own rooms, and Miss Granger, you will have your own bathroom. Don't want to subject you to sharing a toilet with the boys." McGonagall smirked at Granger and Granger sent back a thankful smile.

"Does Malfoy have to be there?" Weasley shouted. He was red in the face and his fists were clenched.

"Yes," McGonagall said firmly. "He needs to be there more than any of you. It's getting late. Again, the dormitory is in the West Wing and the password for this month is 'snapdragon'. Have a good night." And with that, she went up the stairs and closed her door softly.

"Bloody hell! She couldn't have given us a more obvious death sentence." Weasley muttered, earning a slap on the head from Granger. 'What, 'Mione? It's true."

Draco's eyes shifted from the floor to Weasley's face. It was red and he turned to glare at Draco. Draco shrugged and turned to walk out.

Across from the staircase that led to McGonagall's office, was a large window. Draco went to stand in front of it. Looking out, he viewed the black mass that was the DarkForest. It was softly flushed by the white light of the moon.

Draco remembered the detention he had to serve with Hagrid in first year. He didn't know what it was for, but he did know that things lurked in that forest. Dark things that could rip you apart in an instant or shoot you full of venom in another. A small part of him wanted to go into the forest and beg for death.

"You alright, Malfoy?" a deep voice sounded behind him. Draco jumped and turned. Potter stood there with his hands up and green eyes wide with worry. Draco took a deep breath and nodded. Harry lowered his hands and put them into the pockets of his jeans. His eyes still held worry and that other mysterious emotion.

"I guess we should go up and get some sleep, eh?" Potter's voice was quiet and gentle. Draco shrugged and started walking towards the dormitory. They walked in silence for a few minutes.

"Malfoy?" Potter said tentatively. Draco looked at him. Potter stopped walking and Draco stopped a few steps ahead. "Why don't you talk anymore?"

Draco stared at him. He would have thought Potter would be happy if Draco never spoke. Draco shrugged and looked away from Potter.

"Nothing to talk about, I suppose." His voice was rough and weak. He started to walk again and Potter fell in step next to him.

"No one to talk to." The words had escaped his mouth before he even thought them. Potter's steps faltered then evened out again.

"I know how that feels." Potter whispered. They were almost to the entrance of the dormitories when Potter put his hand on Draco's shoulder. Draco shivered from the warmth and looked at Potter.

"You can talk to me. You're not alone." Potter's eyes were honest. Draco felt hot tears prickling at his eyes. He blinked a few times. He nodded and Potter squeezed his shoulder. A look of confusion flashed over Potter's features. He squeezed Draco's shoulder again. His green eyes ran over Draco's face.

_He's just realizing how much of a waste of breath and space you are._

"You're so skinny." Potter finally said. His voice was hard and questioning.

"Not hungry." Draco mumbled, eyes slipping to the floor. Potter was still for a moment before rubbing Draco's shoulder and lightly trailing his hand down the connecting arm. Draco closed his eyes, shivering from the touch. Potter's fingers curled around Draco's hand before dropping back to his side.

"Shall we?" Draco nodded and followed Harry to the wall that held the secret passage to the now eighth year dormitory. Draco muttered "snapdragon" before Harry could and low chuckle sounded from his side.

The bricks in the wall rearranged themselves to reveal an archway that led to a room with multiple sofas and chairs and a large ornate fire place across form a window that looked out over the Quiditch pitch. The room was splashed in muted gold and silver. Draco suspected that they took the colors from Slytherin and Gryffindor that clashed the least and didn't make it look like Christmas all year long.

Draco followed Harry up the stairs to what he assumed were the boy's rooms. They passed Neville Longbottom's room. He was sitting on the floor searching furiously through his trunk.

"Merlin, Trevor! Honestly, why can you never stay put?"

"Trevor is all about keeping up traditions, Neville. As always, we'll keep an eye out for him." Harry said reassuringly. Neville gave him a thankful look. The look disappeared as his eyes slid to Draco. A look of uncertainty was plain on his features.

"Don't kill him, Malfoy." Neville said, eyeing him.

_He couldn't if he wanted to, the slimy, little—_

"I wouldn't, I promise." Draco whispered and stared at the ground. Neville cleared his throat and looked at Harry again.

"Alright, well, we should probably get some sleep." Neville stood and walked to the door. "'Night, Harry. Malfoy." He tacked on Draco's name as an afterthought and shut the door.

Again, Draco followed Harry up more stairs and came upon a closed door with hushed voices speaking behind it.

"…isn't okay, Hermione! He shouldn't be with us! He has no right!"

"He has every right to be protected and given an education, Ronald!"

"How could you be protecting him like that? You of all people know what he's done, what he could do. He's a greasy Death Eater! He's a menace and should be in Azkaban!"

"Ronald! How dare you wish that upon someone…"

Their voices grew dimmer as Harry and Draco climbed the stairs.

_He had the right idea, I'm sorry to admit, but you should be subjected to a punishment far worse. Nothing less than a Dementor's kiss!_

They reached an open door and peaked in. A trunk with the letters HJP sat at the foot of the bed.

"Well, this is mine. I suppose yours is up the stairs a bit. Do you want me to come with you to get settled?" Harry hesitantly and looked Draco in the eyes. The emotion was there again. What was it?! Draco was beginning to get frustrated because he couldn't figure out what it was. At least he was starting to feel something other than despair and hurt.

"No, I'll be okay. Good night, Potter." his hoarse voice sounded. Harry nodded.

"If you need anything, I'm here. Good night, Malfoy."

_Acting like he cares! Don't get your hopes up, Draco. No one cares about you. You're worthless. You shouldn't be allowed to live. You're a blast-ended skrewt smeared on the sole of the Wizarding World's boot. No one wants you. No one loves you. Even your parents killed themselves to get away from you. _

As Draco climbed the stairs, the voice in his head berated him with insults. He clenched his teeth to keep himself from yelling out. When he got to his room, he softly closed the door, and took his wand—previously his father's wand—and threw up a silencing charm.

Draco screamed and let himself fall apart. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he sank to the floor. He sobbed until he made no more noise.

After a moment, he stood and stripped to his underwear. Tears still flowing, he climbed into the bed and waited for sleep he knew would never come.

**Author's note: So, yeah... Saying this chapter ending was a bit on the angsty side might just be the understatement of the year so far. Anyway, I hope you liked it. Reviews are always welcome.**

**All these characters about which I am writing? Yeah, they belong to J.K. Rowling. **


	3. Morning Shower Tribulations

Draco watched as light slowly crept through his window, signaling the start of another day. That was something different than the Slytherin dormitories; you had no idea whether it was day or night with no windows at all. Plus, the dungeons were almost too cold to actually support living creatures. That's probably why Slytherin was in the dungeons anyway. Nothing goes better with dark and cold than evil.

_How dare you think that about Slytherin house! That is the purest and most noble house at this damn school! You should be honored to—_

"Okay, okay! Shut up!" Draco yelled to the voice in his head as he flung the bedding off and stood stretching. It was still early, and the others wouldn't be waking for another hour, but Draco couldn't stay in bed anymore. Besides, it was habit for him to wake before everyone else and get to the showers so he had the better chance of getting the hot water. Although, he probably didn't need to worry since there probably was an abundance of warm water that came up to this dorm.

He gathered his toiletries and wrapped his dark green towel around his shoulders before making his way down the stairs to the bathroom. As he opened the door, he felt the heat and humidity hit him like a _stupefy_ to the face. Someone was still in the bathroom.

"Ooh, break the curse from my heart, vow to never…" the off-key singing voice broke off into a gurgle, then a spitting noise before humming loudly.

Draco opened the door wider to see Longbottom standing at the sink, towel wrapped around his hips. He was bringing a comb through his hair when he caught Draco standing in the doorway. His eyes narrowed and his arms fell loosely to his side with his hands in fists.

"What do you want?" Longbottom snapped before turning around. Draco stepped back, remembering the fiery Longbottom that had become of the terrified one.

_Sniveling little Longbottom actually killed something, while you couldn't do anything. _Draco shivered as he remembered Longbottom wielding Godric Gryffindor's sword and decapitating the snake the Dark Lord kept as a pet.

"Why the hell are you staring at me?" Draco shook his head as he registered Longbottom's voice again. He hadn't realized he'd been staring.

"Shower. I just need to shower." His voice came out small and weak, and he cleared his throat. He quickly looked away, and edged around Longbottom to the nearest stall. He felt eyes on the back of his neck as he pulled the curtain closed. He quickly stripped off his boxers, turned on the shower, and stepped under the warm spray of water. After a few minutes of silence, he heard the door to the hallway open. He waited for it to thud closed.

"Malfoy?" He heard Longbottom's voice call.

"Y-yeah?" he stuttered.

"Sorry about your parents."

"Thank you." Draco said so softly, he wondered if the boy could hear him over the shower. The door closed, leaving Draco alone in the bathroom. He heaved out a heavy sigh before moving to stand under the stream coming from the shower head. The hot water raised goosebumps, and turned his pale skin pink.

_It's all pity. He's not sorry. _

Draco rolled his eyes at the voice in his head. He was getting real tired of its shit about pity. He stood under the hot spray for he didn't know how long. It was when the bathroom door swung open that he jumped, and grabbed his soap, and began a lather between his hands.

"Me and Hermione are planning on going to Hogsmeade on Saturday. I think you and Ginny should come along."

"And, by 'I think', you mean 'Hermione thinks', right?"

"Well, yeah, it was her idea, but I mean, you two should come along. It'll be fun."

Draco heard a sigh as someone turned on the shower to his right.

"Ron, don't you think it's a bit weird? I mean, she's your sister, and you're my best friend, almost family. That makes her almost family."

There was a pause.

"Well, if you put it that way, then yeah it's going to sound weird. But, you know, it's just meta- metamorphlical—"

"Metaphorical, Ron."

"Yeah, metaphorical. You can date metaphorical family."

"I suppose so." Another shower turned on, and it was quiet except for the water running in three stalls. Draco began to wash his hair when Weasley spoke again.

"Hey, Neville, you still dating Luna?" Draco froze. Did Weasley think he was Longbottom? "Neville?"

"Erm, Neville's not in here, I don't think." Potter's voice was hesitant. Nothing happened for a moment.

"You in here, ferret? Are you trying to eavesdrop?" Weasley growled.

"Yes, I'm here, and no, I'm just taking a shower." Draco hoped his voice came across as his usual bored drawl.

"Yeah, right, you little—"

"Ron, just leave him alone," Potter said firmly. "It's too damn early for that."

Draco hurried to finish his shower, quickly rinsing his hair of products before turning the knob to cut off the water. He grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his hips, not even bothering to dry off completely. Careful not to slip on the damp tiles, he walked to the sink, and looked in the mirror that was obviously charmed not to fog up.

The dark patches under his eyes were so prominent, they looked like bruises. He could see his ribs, even when he inhaled deeply. His features were even pointier now than when he was younger and had too much energy to burn. The black snake and skull looked too unnatural against his pale skin, and the jagged scar from his left shoulder to his right hip was puckered and pink. He gingerly ran a finger along it, feeling the bumps and tingles of residual Dark Magic.

A shower shut off, disturbing Draco from his thoughts. He quickly grabbed his toothbrush and busied himself.

Potter stepped out of the shower with a red towel wrapped around his waist. He eyed Draco as he stepped up next to him, toothbrush in hand. He went to spread toothpaste on it when his eyes trailed to Draco's chest and did a double take.

Green eyes went wide as they stared at his chest. Embarrassed, Draco immediately placed one of his arms over the bulk of the scar, and averted his eyes from Potter's face.

"Did I do that?" Potter's voice was barely a whisper. Draco didn't do anything to confirm, just moved the toothbrush around his mouth. He spat and rinsed his toothbrush with one hand, keeping the other firmly wrapped around him. The last shower went off.

"Malfoy," Draco looked up at Potter. His eyes were full of sorrow and the emotion Draco couldn't identify. "Was that me?" he said more firmly.

"Yes." Draco's voice shook. He took a step backwards, running into something. Turning around, he had to grab his towel with the hand covering his scar before it fell.

He was face to face with Weasley, his face red and menacing. His wet hair almost looked brown.

"Watch where you're fucking going, ferret." Draco gulped and quickly stepped around Weasley before running to the door and slamming it behind him. He dashed up the stairs to his room, crashing against the closed door once he was in. His chest was heaving and he blinked away the tears blurring his vision.

_Ran like a coward instead of standing up and fighting for yourself. Disgusting._

**Author's Note: Cool, so I finally got an updated chapter up. I hope you like it. As always, reviews are welcome.**


	4. First Day Back

Draco walked into his room after his last class of the day. He quietly closed the door behind him and dropped his book bag before walking to his bed with a sigh. He flopped face first and let out a groan.

_You're pathetic._

"I know." Draco usually tried to refrain from speaking to the voice to stop him from looking like he'd lost his mind, but sometimes it would shut up if he did talk to himself. He waited for it to speak again, and let out a relieved sigh when it didn't.

He'd heard the voice nonstop all day, never relenting during classes or meals. He got a horrible headache after lunch when someone had shoved him, and the voice yelled it was his fault for 'disgracing a pureblood's shoes with his scuff marks.'

More people than he could count had pushed and shoved him throughout the day. People had tripped him, threw paper balls at the back of his head, and one person had managed to throw a stinging hex into his face. He had to stop at the infirmary, all the while getting sympathetic looks from Madame Pomfrey. She tried to get him to tell her who had done it, but he didn't know himself. Even if he did, he wasn't going to tell. He knew he deserved it. He didn't need the voice laughing at his pain to tell him that.

A knock on the door interrupted his musing, and he groaned again. Standing up, he ran a hand through his hair and made his way to the door. He opened it and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Weasley, purple faced, obviously fuming, was standing there with his head tilted. His ear was held in Granger's fingers, her scowl menacing as she looked at her boyfriend. She turned to Draco, her face softening.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Draco crossed his arms, ignoring the voice in his head muttering about Mudbloods and Blood Traitors procreating. Granger turned her terrifying scowl on Weasley and tugged his ear.

"Ow, Hermione!"

"Say it, Ron!"

"Hermione, I—" He yelped in pain as Granger yanked his ear.

"Ronald, I will not ask you again. Now say it," she said through clenched teeth. Draco felt the corner of his mouth tug up in a smirk as he leaned against the door jamb and watched the scene. It had been ages since he felt amused, and he wasn't about to let it go now. Granger tugged Weasel's ear again.

"Okay! Malfoy, I'm sorry about being a prick this morning," he growled. After another tug, he muttered, "it won't happen again." Draco snorted.

"That's not very convincing," he muttered, but after a glare from Granger which sent a chill through him, he accepted it for what it was. Weasley stormed off after glowering at Draco, then Granger. She watched him until he disappeared, and turned to Draco.

"For what it's worth, Draco, I really am sorry about Ron's behavior. It's unacceptable." Her sincerity made him uncomfortable, and his eyes flew to the tips of his shoes.

"It's okay, Granger."

_Filthy Mudblood. Disgusting, ugly thing. _

"Alright. Well, dinner starts in a few minutes. You're welcome to walk down with us. I saw how people were treating you—"

"I don't need you and your friends protecting me." Draco's voice came out smaller than he intended. Granger looked unconvinced, but she nodded anyway, and offered a tiny smile.

"I'll see you later, Draco." He nodded at her, and watched her go down the stairs.

He closed the door and decided to start on his homework, grateful for the distraction from the voice in his head.

* * *

Draco was done with his Alchemy essay and was starting his Ancient Runes assignment when he heard laughing and yelling downstairs. He sighed and shook his head to get his focus back on his homework. He got a few sentences down before jumping at a sound like a herd of Erumpents running up the stairs. He growled at the inkblot on his paper before spelling it away.

There was no way he was getting any work done with Gryffindors acting that way. He stood and stretched, his spine popping a couple times. He went to his window and swept his eyes over the landscape.

The ForbiddenForest stood before him, dark and ominous. The trees swayed softly in the wind, and small birds decorated the canopy, jumping from branch to branch. Draco thought again of all the creatures that resided there: the centaurs, with their mysterious ways; the unicorns, purest of all creatures.

The werewolves. Flashes of Fenrir Greyback danced in his head. Pictures of him prowling the Manor at night, and attacking Muggles, and killing. Always killing. Another memory passed Draco's mind.

Greyback hunched over a girl who couldn't have been any older than Draco, perhaps younger. Tears streamed down her bloodied and dirtied face, leaving clean streaks over her cheeks. Her clothes were ripped away, revealing her tanned and bruised skin. She tried pushing Greyback away, but he was too strong; he pushed himself on top of her, between her legs. She screamed when he growled in her ear and bared his yellow and decaying teeth.

Greyback's growls and grunts turned into howls as he reared back and slammed his mouth onto her neck. With a sickening crunch, the girl's screams were cut off. Her arms fell, and her head turned towards Draco, watching him with unseeing eyes.

"Draco?" Draco jumped at the sound of his name. He spun around to see Potter standing in the doorway, hand still on the knob.

"Have you ever heard of knocking, Scarhead?" Draco's voice was hard and he was momentarily impressed with himself.

"I did knock. Multiple times, but you must have not heard me," Potter replied, voice low and slow like he was talking to a child. "Are you alright?"

"Just peachy. What do you want?"

"You weren't at dinner. I wanted to see if you were okay."

"I told you, I'm fine," Draco crossed his arms, daring Potter to ask again. Potter shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Right. If you're hungry, I could walk with—"

"Potter, just leave me alone. I don't need you to baby-sit me. There is nothing wrong with me. I am fine," Draco almost flinched from his words.

Potter stared at him. His Killing curse green eyes seemed to go right through him. Draco fidgeted and shifted his feet, but he didn't move his icy eyes from the green ones.

"If you need me, you know where I am," Potter said quietly after a moment. Without moving his eyes from Draco's, Potter reached for the knob and began closing the door. "Good night, Draco."

With that, Potter closed the door. Draco could hear his heavy footsteps travel down the stairs, and the soft opening and closing of the door to his room.

Draco stood staring at his bedroom door. Potter was checking up on him, asking him if he was okay.

"He was worried about me." Draco whispered to himself.

_Don't be daft. He wasn't _worrying _about you. That was-_

"That was not pity." Draco said aloud to himself. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch and move up his cheeks.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Draco smiled.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. It's all J.K. Rowling's.**

**Author Note: Hello... So, I know I have been a stranger, but a lot has been happening in real life. First finals and college applications, then graduating high school, and finally be accepted into college and coming out of the closet. And, of course, after all that, I find no motivation to write. Whenever I was busy, I had so many ideas for this story and other stories pop up in my head, and then when I finally get the time... POOF! They're gone. I just got it back a couple hours ago, but I'm a bit rusty, so if this chapter feels a bit forced, my sincerest apologies, dear readers.**

**Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and followed. You all are the best.**

**Keep the reviews coming, beautifuls.**


	5. Flashbacks

"Draco," Draco's father drew his attention. He was staring at the fire crackling in the fireplace, but looked up to see his father's withering face and stony eyes. "I expect you to succeed in this task the Dark Lord has graciously bestowed upon you. You cannot fail."

"I will not fail, father." Lucius nodded and, looking away, waved his hand, signaling Draco was dismissed.

Draco hardly remembered how he ended up at the train station staring at the Hogwarts Express. A cold hand touched his cheek, and forced his head to turn to his mother's face, the lines of worry and age cutting through the hardness.

"Draco," she whispered. "Please be safe. I don't doubt you, but—"

"Mother, it's alright. I can do this." His voice shook, and her eyes filled with tears. Her bottom lip trembled as she stroked his cheekbone.

"I know you can." She gave him a watery smile. A tear escaped, and Draco raised his hand to brush it away. As she stretched up onto her toes, she pulled Draco's face towards her. He felt her lips touch his temple, just the tiniest flutter, before she whispered in his ear.

"I love you, Dragon." Draco's breath hitched, and he felt tears pricking the backs of his eyes. She hadn't called him that since he was a tiny thing before he tried to make himself his father's image.

"I love you, mummy." Draco whispered, and turned away before his mother's freefalling tears did him in.

_How sentimental._

"Mr. Malfoy!"

Draco's head snapped up with an audible crack. Professor Flitwick was standing beside his desk with a concerned look on his face. Draco's eyes flashed around the classroom. People were staring at him, but that was nothing new. Some people were staring with confusion; some were sneaking giggles behind their hands.

"Mr. Malfoy," Flitwick's quiet voice caught Draco's attention again. His face was soft and sympathetic. "Perhaps you should go to the infirmary." Draco shook his head.

"No, I-I'm fine." His voice shook and cracked. Someone snorted behind him, but he stayed facing forward.

"Draco, I insist," Flitwick whispered and leaned forward. "You were lost in your head. I was calling your name for almost a minute before you snapped out of it. I should think some Dreamless Sleep would do you good. You look exhausted," Flitwick straightened and looked around the classroom. "Would someone please escort Mr. Malfoy to the infirmary?"

"I'll do it," a familiar voice behind him said. A few people gasped, and Draco did as well when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Draco looked up at Potter's face. His lips were curved into a gentle smile, his green eyes soft and kind and full of…that mystery emotion. Draco broke his gaze and shook himself, then began to pack away his things.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. Now, as I was saying, in order to do this charm, you must flick your wrist twice to the right…"

"Harry must be under the Imperius; there's no way he would help that slime ball without being cursed," someone whispered somewhere to the left of him. Draco heard Potter suck in a breath, and saw him turn out of the corner of his eye. He looked at Potter full on as he stood, only to pause at what he saw.

Potter was glaring at the back of the speaker's head. He was terrifying. His eyes were dark and guarded, his mouth pinched in a glower. Draco recognized the face. It was the one Potter wore whenever Draco had provoked him. It was always the last thing Draco saw before Potter's fist connected with his jaw.

Potter took a step forward towards the speaker. Draco grabbed onto his arm before he even knew what he was doing. Potter whipped around, the horrifying expression softening slightly.

"He's not worth it," Draco said softly. Potter's face melted to a small smile, his eyes lightening to the rich emerald green they usually were. Draco nodded and released Potter's arm, instantly missing the warmth on his cold fingers.

They made their way to the door to the classroom, ignoring those who were not paying attention to Flitwick. They were almost out when the voice spoke again.

"No, he's probably under a love potion. The pointy fag couldn't get any without it."

Draco felt Potter turn around again, his fingers tightening in Potter's robes as he started towards the boy who spoke out.

"Twenty points from Hufflepuff, Mr. Smith, and you will be joining me for a detention tonight straight after dinner," Flitwick's voice rang out through the classroom. Draco took advantage of the pause in Potter's step to pull him out the door.

The pair walked in silence until they got to the stairs at the end of the hall. Draco immediately went for the stairs heading up, having no intention of going to the infirmary.

"Where are you going?" Potter's confused voice made him pause and turn around to look at him.

"I don't need to go to the infirmary," Draco's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. It seemed to be doing that a lot lately, no doubt from the months of no use abruptly ending.

"Are you sure?" Potter asked, concern flooding his face and tone. Draco nodded. "You really don't look well."

"I don't want to go to there," Draco said with a stubborn tilt in his head. Potter seemed as if he were about to argue, so Draco turned to slowly make his way up the stairs. He paused once more when he heard footsteps following him.

"Well, then I'm coming with you."

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**Author's Note: Okay, I know it's been a while, and I know this chapter is short, but I've been distracted lately. I'm sorry.**

**If you don't like it, tough titty. Reviews are, as always, welcome. Thank you, beautifuls!**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, the only thing I own pertaining to the world of Harry Potter is a pair of Slytherin socks, and a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans that I have not had the courage to pack into yet.**


	6. I Want to Help You

"Potter, just go away. There really is no reason for you to be here," Draco said, exasperated. Potter was following him around like a lost puppy.

Draco had gone to his room to get his books so he could finish his Ancient Runes assignment, and Potter had followed him to the threshold of his room. He then went around, looking for various places he could sit and write out his homework in peace, but Potter wouldn't let up. When he sat on the rock that jutted out a bit over the lake, Potter plopped down right next to him.

"Well, there's nothing else for me to do," Potter said as he stretched out and lounged on his elbows.

"No homework? Projects? Interviews?" Draco asked, his voice a disinterested drawl.

Potter laughed. "None that I can think of. Being friends with Hermione really has its advantages. She makes sure we get our homework done the day it's assigned, otherwise she'll nag you until you do it."

"Interesting," Draco supplied in a voice that suggested the opposite.

"So what are you doing?" Potter asked when he saw Draco wasn't going to say anymore.

"Ancient Runes," Draco sighed.

"Bunch of gibberish if you ask me," Potter chuckled.

"I didn't so…" Draco trailed off as he finished drawing a symbol.

After a moment of awkward silence, Potter said, "Sorry." Draco looked at him as if he'd grown another head. "I just…I know you want to be alone, and I get that—I want to be alone sometimes, too—but you're always alone. You're always locked in your room, or in the library or somewhere. I never see you walking to classes with someone, or in the common room with us, or sitting with people in the Great Hall. Well, I never see you in the Great Hall, anyway, which isn't good for you, you know. You never eat—"

"Potter, get to the point," Draco growled.

"It's not good to be alone all the time. It gets to you. I mean, I don't want to offend—"

"Your very presence offends me, Potter."

Potter ignored him. "But, have you seen yourself?"

Draco paused. He has. He saw bits and glimpses of himself everyday. "I try to avoid reflective surfaces," he said in a small voice.

"You know, when everything…ended," Potter started, staring at his hands in his lap. "I holed myself up in Grimmauld Place. I kept to myself, I didn't talk to Ron or Hermione or anyone. I stopped eating, stopped sleeping…stopped living," he turned to Draco, who sat completely still, staring at the paper in his lap, but not really seeing it.

"I would never wish that upon anyone," his voice was so soft, Draco needed to look at him. Potter was staring at Draco with so much intensity, almost too much. Draco wanted to look away, but he couldn't, not when Potter was staring at him like that. "I want to help you, Draco."

The use of his first name brought him back into the moment. He blinked, and realized just how close he and Potter were. Their noses were just a couple inches apart, breathing the same air. He pulled away and averted his eyes from Potter's otherworldly green gaze. He cleared his throat to make up some time before responding.

"Harry!" a voice called from behind them. Potter turned and waved to the person while Draco quickly began packing up. He felt Potter's eyes on him before the hand on his arm.

"Draco, please," Potter pleaded. His hand tightened a little. Draco couldn't meet his eyes.

"You can't save me from this, Harry," he whispered before gently pulling the hand off his arm. He held onto it for a while, marveling in the warmth and rough fingers before dropping it.

He spun on his heal, and all but ran to the castle.

_Always running away, you stupid coward._

Draco couldn't help agreeing with the voice this time.

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**Author's Note: Dang, y'all, I feel like I'm on a roll. Just call me butter! But like for real, I feel like I am a writing machine, and it's amazing.**

**Anyway, thank you to all of you who have favorited, followed, and especially, reviewed. All of you are amazing, though there was one person who reviewed, and lordy loo... To the Guest that reviewed, 'I know how it feels,' you broke my heart, sweetie. I just...I can't. I really hope you don't, love.**

**As always, reviews are very welcome, and thank you, beautifuls!**

**Disclaimer: Although I hate to admit this, I would hate to get sued for everything I own more. I don't own Harry Potter.**


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